Puzzle Pieces
by Remy's Writer
Summary: A rough night for Liz.


**Dear Readers,**

**I apologize for such absences. I have school and work hounding me at the moment. To try to break from my funk, I produced this. A little drabble. I've found I am best at those, rather than the really bad quality of my attempts at multi-chapter stories. Anyways, I do hope you enjoy. I'll be cleaning house on here very soon; meaning I'll be deleting, reworking, then reposting some stories. Anything you see deleted that you have put on watch, don't worry, it will all be reposted, and hopefully a little better structured. For now, I'm off to watch Golden Army.**

**Your Obedient Servant,  
~R.W.**

**Disclaimer: **As per usual, I don't own HB or Liz.

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_Puzzle Pieces_

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These times made things a little bit special. While nothing about them was normal, not even by the lowest human standards, they were still just two people trying to find a place they fit. It was in each other that they began to find that place.

Friday nights did not mean going out to dinner in a fancy restaurant or going out dancing like it did for most young couples. Their weekends were spent watching old silent Chaplin films until the tape ran out. The occasional bowl of popcorn snuck in between their snuggled bodies, but not tonight. **Monsieur Verdoux **(circa 1947) was Liz's favorite. It was the third time this month they had put it in. She always complained about never seeing the last ten minutes because she fell asleep every single time.

It was no different this time, either.

Careful not to move his arm too much and have the rough stone scratch against her skin, he reached over with his left hand for the remote. Knowing the old sound of the static at the end of a VHS tape lulled her, he sighed in soft relief, as the television powering down did nothing to wake her. Usually he would carry her down the hall to her own room. As of late, she had been spending the night in the truck with him, feeling slightly insecure in her fireproof "cell" of a room, so he did not think she would mind staying put.

For such a big man, he shifted himself rather deftly into a more comfortable position and pulled her closer to him. She let out a little sigh of contentment before snuggling into him, her head resting between his bicep and chest perfectly. Her right arm draped lazily across his mid section, the small, thin fingers of her hand tickling his side as they twitched in a dream. He let a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he stared down the length of his body at her. There were only two cats on the mattress tonight, one tucked into the angle of her bent knees, and the other on his left side. If one cared to glance around, countless other furry bodies could be seen rising and falling with the air of sleep, or tails hanging over ledges, swinging contentedly.

His jaw opened in a dislocating yawn and he settled deep into the bed, the shocks of the old truck groaning as his full weight bore down at last. As he closed his eyes, his left hand moved upward to lie at her waist. It was the realization that one of his hands almost completely encased her tiny waist that he paused in drifting off and let his eyes flutter open. Seeing his bright red skin against her alabaster complexion shocked him. He was so utterly different, yet so used to his appearance, that he was just noticing how human she really was, how fragile.

A rise in temperature distracted him from his thoughts. He searched for the source, thinking that he had left a lit cigar somewhere. Then he realized the small hand at his side was no longer twitching softly, it clenched in a fist, that pallid flesh burning a bright orange. The line of her body against his was tense and her face tight in the beginning throes of a nightmare. These dreams happened often enough for them to line her bedroom in fire retardant materials, but he had never been with her when they started, just in the aftermath. He knew enough to know it was usually twisted memories of her childhood and losing her parents.

Her skin grew hotter still and he moved on instinct, hooking one leg around hers and using his arms to roll her on top of him. The kitten at her legs moved down from the disturbance and the one at his side woke just as the first hints of flame flickered to life. He moved to a sitting position, pushing the blanket off them and bundling her in his lap. She automatically curled in on her self, a small moan slipping from between her clenched lips.

It started at her fingers and toes, moving in small lines of white-hot light up her legs and arms. He wrapped his arms around her tight, trying to keep the flames from going further than their bodies. His body encircled her small frame, his head resting atop her fall of black hair. Whispers fell from his lips desperately, saying anything to calm her. Her voice had brought him back from death's door; he only hoped he could pull her from a dream. Their bodies rocked gently back and forth in a soothing motion. His whispers kept finding her ear, telling frantic stories of love and safety. Tales of adventures past where she had faced her fears and conquered all, the hundreds she had saved when they all could have perished.

He laid a kiss at the crown of her head as she tensed completely, relaxing in a burst of flame, beautiful and blue, encasing them both. Yet as the heat grew in that one moment, every muscle releasing in her body caused the fire to fade, receding back into her core as her big brown eyes slowly opened. She gazed into his endless yellow eyes and he saw the relief of being rescued.

As they silently lay back down, she stretched upward and blew out the little yellow flame clinging to the edge of one of his filed horns. She smiled softly down at him before pressing the gentlest of kisses upon his lips, both their surface temperatures still above average. He lost most of his conceptions of her fragility in that moment, even as she rolled back to his side to curl around him tighter than before. He tugged the blanket back over them while she pulled his left arm around her waist once more, pinning her against his bare chest. Her small arms surrounded him possessively.

"You're the only one who can bring me back," she whispered before brushing her lips along the symbolic circles in his chest and settling back into a perfect sleep.

With her belly beginning to swell from the life they had created, she still fit him like a puzzle piece. He knew without a doubt that no matter the outcome, she would love anything they formed, as long as it was together. For she was his hellfire angel, and he her fireproof blanket.


End file.
